


Where Is My Mind

by Pluppelina



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: (if I understand that concept right), BDSM, Bondage, Dildos, Gags, M/M, Sensory Deprivation, Suicidal Thoughts, calm, mood study, sub space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-25 10:53:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1646051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pluppelina/pseuds/Pluppelina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim has a somewhat different way of dealing with stress. Sebastian helps him cope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where Is My Mind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RichieBrook](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RichieBrook/gifts).



Jim feels calm. Shut off. Contained. 

It’s beautiful. 

He’s got his eyes closed but that hardly matters, not with the hood he’s wearing, close-knit over his eyes and ears and nose, making sure he sees nothing, hears nothing, smells nothing. He’s been wearing it for long enough now that it’s like being in a floating tank, not quite able to tell up from down but not motion sick from it either. Everything is simply… Still. Still enough for a mind as big as his to begin doubting its very existence, if left to its own devices. This is very close to what he imagines heaven is like.

That’s what the dildo is for. He’d laughed when he’d first gotten it, the results of Sebastian somehow getting his hands on a Clone-A-Willy kit, but it’s come in handy. It’s just big enough, just the size he’s used to, and it sits very nicely in his mouth with its flared base. It works better than any gag and it feels better, too. Somehow, it makes it easier to breath if he bites down on it and feels it there, solid, real. How can you doubt that you exist when you can feel your own impact on an inanimate object, something not part of yourself?

So having the replica in his mouth makes him feel calm, but it’s the hand at the small of his back that makes him feel safe. He would never have dared try anything like this, making himself this vulnerable -- hood shutting off his senses, wrists and ankles cuffed together in a cross behind his back, making movement all but impossible -- if he hadn’t know Sebastian was there. It doesn’t matter that he says nothing, does nothing, is probably watching telly for all Jim knows; the only thing that matters is that his warm presence can be felt, that there’s a protective hand on him that sometimes just rests there and sometimes moves ever so gently over his skin, making goose bumps break out where it’s been and isn’t any longer, making the exposed skin feel bizarrely empty and cold. 

It won’t last forever, of course. It can’t. Nothing this sweet can. Before long, Jim knows, Sebastian is going to start uncuffing him. It’s going to be too soon even if it’s been hours, and Jim trusts his partner in this aspect as well. There’re so many things to considered that Jim has put into Sebastian’s hands, things like blood clots and sleeping limbs, that need to be taken into consideration. So Sebastian will unlock the handcuffs when the time comes, and slowly, gently, rub life back into Jim’s still body. It’s like being dead, in a way, what he feels now. An excellent option to suicide, certainly. A better option by far, simply because this Jim can have over and over and over again. 

So there will be the rubbing hands, careful over his hands and feet, and Jim will know it’s time to start returning to the place of the living. Sebastian’s going to loosen the hood just enough for some light to flood in through the bottom of it, just enough for the last of the evening news to make it to his ears in the form of a muffled murmur. Just enough that Jim can get used to the idea of sensory input again, without having to be flashed in the face by it, like waking up to find that the room is still dark and you don’t have to get up for hours yet. 

The world is always a little easier to handle when Sebastian’s hand comes up under the hood to gently take the dildo out of Jim’s mouth than it was when the same hand put the same object in. When Jim opens his mouth and lets Sebastian take it, it’s as though some of his worries have stuck to the plastic and will wash out in the sink later, along with his saliva and the fresh bite marks. As though the thoughts of ordering his own assassination, Kennedy style, lose all point when he can taste latex instead. As though all thoughts of planning his own funeral were dissolved by it.

Even without his anchoring gag, he isn’t going to feel adrift when Sebastian helps him stretch. It’s always the same, always slow and gentle, always predictable; right arm up, up, up until his shoulders ache, and then down again to rest by his side. Left arm up, left arm relaxed; right leg down, left leg down, relax. Relax, and breathe, and blink his eyes open. His eyelashes brush the hood when Sebastian finally lifts it off of him, helps him out of it, and with all the bondage gone only the feeling remains. The calm, the quiet, the peace that’s Jim’s latest addiction. He’s never more fully inside of himself than in those moments right after, when he looks up at Sebastian and Sebastian smiles down at him and they can pretend, for the time being, that they aren’t at all who they really are. 

All of that is still to come, though. Jim knows that he has another eternity to rest there, blind and bound, gagged and hooded, held and safe. Another eternity to revel in the calmest, purest place his own mind has to offer, made quiet by the knowledge that someone’s got him. Sebastian has him. He can rest in peace, finally.

**Author's Note:**

> I only wanted to remind everyone that I'm very much open to requests, here or on tumblr. A link can be found on my profile.


End file.
